


I'll be the Moon.

by poemygod



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 05:20:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9477323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poemygod/pseuds/poemygod
Summary: Bucky Barnes can not fall in love with Kate Bishop. She's an impossible brat and he can't love her. It's impossible.





	

It’s the way her hair moves that surprises him first. 

Long and smooth, hanging around her face like a curtain and moving like a liquid. It hangs down around her back; curling and twisting over her shoulder blades, impossible not reach out and touch it. Fingers longing to thread through the delicately soft strands that cover her creamy skin, curious how they would feel wrapped in the dark tresses.

He can’t love her.

Loving her is like being the moon, constantly influenced by the brightness of the sun, but destined to get burned if they get too close. Instead, they orbit around and around each other, in constant pull and tension.

He tried explaining it once. She just laughed with a smile that made the whole room seem brighter and suddenly he didn’t mind being the moon.

It happens on a night when he’s too afraid to sleep, plagued by the sins of his past. Nightmares so vivid and terrifying because they’re real, memories lingering in his head to remind him that demons walk the earth and he was once one of them. Sometimes he thinks he still is.

The night wanes on and despite his best efforts, he wakes up in a sweat, pupils blown wide with the things that can’t be unseen. Finding his way to the bathroom, the cold water only makes flashes of long winters seep into his mind. Looking up into the mirror, his muzzled reflection stares back at him.

Suddenly she’s there, soft fingers and even softer voice breaking through and leeching into his mind like a hallelujah chorus. His visage is his own again though splintered. It takes him a moment to comprehend, gaze taking in the silver fist that has shattered the glass, creating spider webs across the mirror.

She doesn’t even ask and he’s muttering that he is fine, the words falling from his lips almost on reflex. Just that. He never means them because there is no part of him that is fine.

Kate sees past the excuses, adept at reading through the brokenness. Her sympathies aren’t like other peoples; trite and meant to make themselves feel better, like cheap glue trying to seal up all his cracks. Her kindness is genuine and he almost hates it more, having dealt with people and their selfish motives before.

It’s easy to tune out the words of those who want to heal him and make him better because they feel responsible, searching for ways to assuage their guilt, only making him hate himself more. They peddle their concern like snake oil salesman, waiting around long enough for the placebo effect of their ‘care’ to take hold, leaving him more broken than before when they’ve left.

She knows that words can’t do anything against the craters that decorate his soul, some deeper while others sink just below the surface. Her fingers smooth his hair back and suddenly she is a solar flare, wrapping around him and pulling closer, close, closer. 

They orbit too close and he can’t remember why he reaches out to touch her, brushing smooth strands of dark hair off her pale shoulders without thought. Whether instinctual or not, she leans into the touch and he knows that this is the eclipse.

Her hair is softer than he anticipated, long curls slipping over his fingers, trying hard not to clutch. There’s a scar just under her collarbone and he traces it, hearing her breath hitch and dark gaze jumping to her face. Those bright eyes have always been so filled with trust and understanding, but now there is a heat that he’s never noticed before.

He can feel it down to his bones, burning through him like a wildfire and blood turning to molten lava in his veins. Hand sliding up her neck, he cups her cheek, thumb ghosting over the crest. He can’t love her. It’s too dangerous. His axis is tipping dangerously and she is in his arms, all soft curves and plush lips.

Thought is overridden and his other hand clasps at the small of her back, hauling her up to him and fingers tangling in those soft tresses again. It doesn’t take him long to carry her away to her bedroom, falling back into the luxurious bed with her wrapped around him. His lips find her pulse, moving down her neck with an unpracticed gentleness that he has not utilized in years. 

It doesn’t take him long to realize that no matter how soft she looks, there is no need for him to be delicate. She has the edge of a fighter, trained over the years to defend herself, lithe muscles hidden under deceivingly smooth skin. Scars mar her body like constellations and he pieces them together one at a time, memorizing the stars that decorate every inch of her.

He finds his solace in her over the night, her name a hymnal song that he sings. Her touch leaves him with the most pleasant traces on his skin, hands digging into the line of his shoulder blades. Together, their voices create a ballad that quickly becomes his new favorite song, stuck on repeat in his mind when the sun finally filters through the window.

Loving her is impossible.

He watches the way she sleeps, head pillowed against his chest, dark hair tickling his side when she shifts. Each touch emblazoned in his memory, his fingers find her scars, moving over alabaster skin that seemed to glow under the moonlight in the night’s darkness. As the sun made its pass, the day breaking, she is radiant and it makes watching her hard. 

Yet, he can’t tear his eyes away, staring into the sun without worry over the consequences. Just for now. In the sanctuary of her bedroom, he closes his eyes for the moment, basking in the warmth of the sun and feeling her heat on his skin. A shiver ran through him, unable to deny what had began to blossom somewhere deep in his chest, the magma in his blood igniting by the press of her lips.

With a breath, his eyes find hers and her smile illuminates the world around them. Love is not something he wants to allow himself, the notion sending icy waves through him despite her warmth. He can be the moon, constant and shinning through the night, lit by the sun as they orbit around each other, cherishing each eclipse where he can seek comfort in her light.


End file.
